


Renamed

by sourassin (scherryzade)



Series: Dwarrowdams [7]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bard is so confused, Epithets, F/M, Female Kíli, Gen, Kili is still adorable, Names, fili and kili are not related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 18:09:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8499976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scherryzade/pseuds/sourassin
Summary: The battle is won, the mountain restored, Dale and Erebor at peace. Time for a celebration, and true selves to be revealed.~"Don't stare," Bard tells his children.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A sequel (well, a snippet to follow on from) [Akhùthûzh](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5795932) \- probably makes more sense if you've read that, but the tl;dr is that Kili is Fili's wife, not his brother, but is presented as such when they're travelling, and she is responsible for the Line of Durin surviving the Battle of the Five Armies.

"Don't stare," Bard tells his children.

"But -" they chorus back at him.

"It's not polite," he hisses.

"But -"

"Please," he begs, and they sulk, but comply - well, Sigrid and Bain do, and Tilda is young enough the dwarves will excuse her. He hopes.

He doesn't stare himself, even if the little blue-and-silver-clothed figure does keep catching his eye.

Luckily the feast has delights enough to distract even Tilda, and by the time the dancing starts, they are occupied enough that they don't see how he startles when that figure sits down beside him.

"Your Highness," he says.

The dwarf frowns. "Ooh, no, don't start with that. Bad enough everyone calling Fili 'Your Highness' without setting them all on me."

"Shall I call you Mistress Kili, then?"

"Mahal, no! Kili will do, for the Lord of Dale, and the Dragonslayer."

"Neither of those names suit me, I fear," says Bard.

"Aye, well, we can't choose what people call us, save by asking, and not often then," she says, soberly. Then her face lifts, and she beams up at him. She has not Thorin's trick of looking up through lowered brows, and her head is quite craned back as she says, "They suit you better than Bargeman, I'll warrant."

"Bargeman was honest, at least," he says.

She sniggers. "You smuggled us into Laketown in barrels, Bargeman - I don't believe you had much time for 'honest'."

He can't help but smile back at her, for all there's bitterness in the memory. Her smile is too honest and merry to provoke anything but a merry response. "Come," she says, "what would you have them call you?"

He considers this for a moment. "Bowman." And then snorts, shaking his head. "Smaug called me that," he explains to her. "He meant it as an insult, but I killed him all the same."

Kili knocks her tankard against his. "Bard the Bowman it is," she says.

He laughs. ”And you? How would you be called?"

"Why, I told you - Kili! That is the name I chose." She is no longer looking at him, but back at her husband, who it seems has been watching them all the while. Her smile is soft as she catches Fili's eye, but quickly broadens as she raises her tankard to salute him. Her vessel thus emptied, she reaches for a flagon and refills her own, then Bard's, and those of the nearest worthies. Then she stands, and lightly steps onto her chair. "A toast," she cries, and the crowd roars its assent.

She steps onto the table, listing slightly, then, balance regained, raises her tankard once more. "To Bard the Bowman!"

"Bard the Bowman!" cries the crowd, before breaking into cheers and foot-stomping loud enough to shake the room. Bard is almost too startled to remember to raise his own tankard in acknowledgement.

Kili jumps down from the table and holds out her hand. "Come and dance."

"I don't think that would be wise," he replies. "I do not know the steps," he says, to excuse himself.

"Nor do I!" says Kili, tugging on his arm. Fearing to lose it to her dwarven strength, he follows her. "You need only leap in time to the music, and the rest will take care of itself," she assures him.

So this, he observes, is the shieldmaiden who stood between Azog and her fallen kin, who felled two dozen orcs with bow and sword before Bolg cut her down. This is the warrior they call Kili the Unyielding, this blithe and laughing figure picking up her skirts to dance with great enthusiasm and very little rhythm. Little wonder all eyes are on her as she spins across the room, dragging Bard in her wake.

He wonders if she wears it as lightly as she affects.

(At least he need not worry that his children will stare at Kili, for they are all staring quite open-mouthed at him.)

 


End file.
